For those reading this, this is my last testimony of the madness that lurks in the depths of the human mind. They say I'm mad… perhaps, yes, but for now I only posses enough sanity to write this, my final address to this world. This world I once called home, and now the one I call prison! This world, the one I call mad, but perhaps in calling this world such - maybe I, myself have become mad… Enclosed in this envelope are my personal thoughts, but be warned. The mind that has written them is not the mind that speaks to you now. The man that produced such horrendous thoughts, even so that I cannot read them without fainting, these terrible acts that he has committed… maybe I have committed… By the time you read this I will already have taken my own life, and will finally be rid of the dreams.
-Letter found on Mr. Whitmore's desk 1822

To all who may view this letter, I must write what I have seen to keep all sanity. This, this day is perhaps the day I have lost sanity, but perhaps not… perhaps I am just being paranoid. Yes that's it… I'm just being silly. These images that I see…these dreams of myself running, hitting, beating the people that serve me; but perhaps there are more than just dreams, maybe it's true? No! That's impossible. These are dreams nothing more, the dreams of a mad man yes, but I do not wish this. I do not wish these…these nightmares! I do not wish harm upon the people I cherish, but how then when I wake I see that there is no breakfast? How then, when I see my servants they cower in fear as I make the slightest move toward them? Did I dream or have I gone mad? No! I am not mad these are just nightmares- nothing more!
-1st of all the letters from Mr. Whitmore 1822
I awoke again to find my servant Tabitha shrieking in terror, for I had blood on my palms. I looked down in horror as I realized, I had no wounds. Then I recalled my dream with vivid detail of me murdering a town peasant, but this can be nothing more than a dream! I looked at her and comforted her that it was nothing more than a nose bleed, but in my mind I smiled and told myself maybe it's not a nose bleed… No! I cannot have committed such a deed. I am not capable of something of that magnitude, but maybe it wasn't me… No, that's impossible! I cannot see from someone else's eyes. But maybe it wasn't someone else… No! I cannot think of such catastrophes. I have my own mind no one else's.
-2nd of all the letters from Mr. Whitmore 1822

I knew it! I knew it couldn't be true. I walked to town the next morning, and everything was normal. Then I noticed dear Mr. Thompson was missing. Mr. Thompson…the beggar on the sidewalk. I shrieked in terror and ran home and went straight to my bed. I laid there…thinking. Thinking how I could commit such a deed, but in my head I smiled thinking that even if I did do it I wouldn't get caught. Wait…I can't be happy right now. This is a tragedy nothing should make me smile…maybe I'm losing it. I must get my own mind back…I must not sleep…

-3rd of all the letters from Mr. Whitmore 1822

It has been almost a week since I've slept. Almost a week since I've felt the comfort of my bed, but even though I have not slept I still dream… I dream of these horrible things I do. Maybe these aren't dreams anymore. Maybe I should accept that I am a monster, a Mr. Hyde… These dreams of men, women, and children's blood painting the floor and walls are now a reality. I chuckle in disbelief at how there is no one looking for the people that I take. I take satisfaction in knowing that I am never going to the prison. Slowly but surely I gain more satisfaction with every evil thing that I do. The screams, the blood, the silence…

-4th of all the letters from Mr. Whitmore 1822

There is no longer anything left for my soul…I have gone insane …and far beyond. I have committed more than murder. I have slaughtered even the least of the aggravating peasantry. I have no more self control. I feel my life closing in on me...Like someone else is inside me like… a monster. Soon there will be nothing left of me, only this thing that has taken control of my mind… or maybe freed it? For so long I have taken on the burdens of life…maybe this is an escape. This is just a new life for me. I have no servants, and no family. Maybe I can just let go… Yes that's it I'll just let go and be free of these nightmares.



-5th of all the letters from Mr. Whitmore 1822

The nightmares are gone…I always have a smile now, because nothing haunts me anymore. I take my shoes off at my bloody house…in which I keep no company. I have no worries about anyone coming to my house. The streets are filled with people but yet I speak to no one. I am no longer the same man who ran from destiny. I was born to do this…this is why I'm here. What I used to fear…these monstrosities I used to claim as nightmares have now become dreams. My life's philosophy always has been “fulfill your dreams”, and I have done just that…
-6th letter from Mr. Whitmore 1822